


Aingeal Gleidhidh

by preciouslittleingenue



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Guardian Angels, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23821702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciouslittleingenue/pseuds/preciouslittleingenue
Summary: Aingeal Gleidhidh...Guardian AngelUnsure of what to do with memories of Faith in 1948, Claire finds a moment of comfort in telling baby Brianna about her big sister, her guardian angel."I'd promised Frank not to talk to her about her father, but I'd never promised anything of the sort for her sister."
Comments: 36
Kudos: 114





	Aingeal Gleidhidh

I jolted awake, my chest on fire and my heart splintered.

I brought my trembling hands to rest on my abdomen. It was flat, empty. I squeezed my eyes shut and desperately tried to remember the feeling of her little body swimming inside of me, the only movements she would ever make.

The only feeling inside me at the moment was nausea. I removed my hands from my stomach and covered my face, quieting my breathing, trying to prevent the sobs I could feel coming. I thickly swallowed the bile in my throat. I suddenly felt overwhelmingly cold, and it took me a moment to realize why. I removed my hands from my face and glanced at Frank, still dead asleep beside me. If I'd ever stirred so violently in bed before, _he_ would have awoken immediately, his arms would be around me in an instant, his lips covering my head with kisses and whispering foreign words of comfort into my hair.

_"_ _Was it her again?"_

He always knew.

_"_ _Yes."_

Our daughter.

"Faith."

I whispered it into the silent blackness of the bedroom. I realized then that I hadn't said her name since I'd been back. Jamie and I spoke of her, not often enough as to not allow ourselves to move on, but enough that we could feel comfort in knowing that we hadn't imagined her altogether. There were quiet nights in bed where we'd gone back and forth debating what her first word would have been. There were moments where I'd become lost in staring at something, and Jamie's gentle touch would bring me back.

_"_ _What color do you think her eyes were?"_

I never got to see.

We decided that she'd have my eyes since she had Jamie's hair. I'd managed to get Jamie to agree that "papa" would have been her first word rather than "mama." Her speech would be a fascinating hybrid of Highlander Scot and my "proper English" as Jamie had called it. Jamie would have taught her Gaelic immediately. I'd allowed that her first Gaelic word could have been " _màthair_ " since her first English word had been "papa."

These were the ways we'd kept her alive.

Now, I didn't know how. Now I had a man who hardly knew me anymore sleeping next to me, and he hadn't even known of Faith's existence until a few weeks ago. I'd been afraid to tell him that I'd been able to conceive not once, but _twice_ with a man that wasn't him, and I'd been hesitant to admit that I was even more broken in a way I hadn't initially let on. I hadn't realized until now how starved I'd been of her memory, of even saying her name.

My arms suddenly ached in a very familiar way. They felt empty and without purpose, a purpose that could only be filled by holding the very real, very alive baby that was asleep down the hall.

Her sister.

I swung my legs out of bed and pulled on my robe. Frank would surely disapprove of my waking a sleeping infant, of potentially destroying hours of much needed sleep for both of us, but he couldn't possibly understand the need. The need of a mother starved for months of being able to hold her own child. I'd felt this emptiness for months, and holding my daughter was the only cure.

I crept down the hall to the nursery and silently pushed the door open. I walked to the bassinet and the moment I could see the top of her head, I broke into a grin.

"There she is," I whispered adoringly, stroking her impossibly tiny cheek with my fingers. "Hello, angel." I ever-so-carefully reached into the bassinet and scooped her out with painstaking care to not wake her. "There we go." I slowly made my way to the rocking chair in the corner by the window, and I sat without causing her to stir. "Here we go…Mummy just wanted to hold you. No need to wake up." I kissed her head, breathing her in. "My sweet girl…" My heart was so full whenever I held her. "My precious baby…" I fixated on her red hair for a moment and took a deep, shaking breath. " _Mo chridhe_ …"

I could have cried at how ugly it sounded coming out of my sassenach mouth. I'd heard Jenny say it to her children, I'd heard Jamie whisper it to my stomach. I'd deduced enough to know it was a term of endearment for one's children, but I hadn't thought to ask until perhaps the millionth time he'd whispered it to our unborn Faith.

_"_ _It means 'my heart'."_

I looked at her, my flesh and blood, so totally and completely mine. _My heart, indeed_.

I didn't want to say it again, I couldn't. God forbid I get used to saying it and slip in front of Frank, or _she_ get used to hearing it and ask me about it someday. It wouldn't be long before she would start to understand, begin to associate sounds with meaning. And I'd made a promise. I couldn't confuse her like that. It would be unfair.

But right now, alone with her, just barely a month old, this moment could be ours forever. Just hers and mine…and his.

"She is yours, Jamie," I whispered reverently, practically silent. I ran my thumb over her red curls. "She will always be yours. Your _chridhe_."

There. That would be the last time.

I kissed her head again, and to my delight, her eyes fluttered open. Somehow I had a feeling she wouldn't cry, and I was right.

"Well hello, Miss Brianna." I beamed at her. "What can I do for you on this fine night?"

She stared up at me with those big, blue saucers, her mouth hanging open in an adorable little "o" shape. In transition from bassinet to rocking chair, one of her arms had broken free of her swaddle. I attempted to get it wrapped up again, but her hand closed around my finger. Tears welled up in my eyes.

"That's my finger," I said, laughing. "Yes, my finger. In a few months I'm sure you'll be chewing away at it, hm?"

I kept waiting for her to let go, to lose interest, but she didn't.

"Quite a strong grip you've got." I laughed again. "That's the Scot in you, I'm sure."

Guilt bubbled up inside of me, but I quelled my nerves by assuring myself that she would never remember this. Not if this was the only time.

"You're a Highlander through and through, little girl." She blinked at me. "You…you look just like your sister, you know," I said carefully. I'd promised Frank not to talk to her about her father, but I'd never promised anything of the sort for her sister.

And besides, she wouldn't remember.

"You've got a big sister, Brianna. Well, I'm sure you're bigger now than she ever got to be." My throat burned with the effort of trying to stop my tears. "She was so very tiny when she was born. Tinier than even you were. But you look just like her. You've got the same hair, the same slant to your eyes." Brianna's grip on my finger remained ever strong, and she kept her stare locked on my face. "Sometimes I imagine two little redheaded girls running together in the grass, putting flowers in each other's identical hair." I sighed shakily. "You would have loved each other, Brianna. You would have been the best of friends. You and Faith. That was her name. Faith. I didn't name her, Mother Hildegarde did. Oh, she loved her, too. She was a good woman. She fought so hard to keep your sister in this world. She fought when I couldn't." Tears finally spilled over, but my hands were too occupied to brush them away. "I held that little baby just as tightly as I hold you. I love you _both_ with my entire heart. Faith." I leaned in close to her face. "Can you remember that name, my darling? Faith. Your sister. Your guardian angel. Faith."

Logically, I knew of course she couldn't, and I knew it wasn't something I could keep reminding her of. It would break my promise to Frank. But I thought perhaps even if she couldn't consciously remember, the name might carry a strange, inexplicable significance for her when she's older. Perhaps Faith could hear me now, calling on her to be with her sister, as she was always with me. Even if Brianna couldn't tell, wouldn't know it as definitely as I did, there she still would be.

"I haven't said her name in a long time," I continued. "I've been afraid to. But what kind of mother would I be to keep sisters apart, hm?" I smiled, thinking of the two redheaded girls again. I suddenly began to think what might have happened if Faith had lived, and grown. She'd have been a toddler during Culloden. Would Jamie still have insisted on fighting, or would he have spared himself from what he knew to be a doomed fate in order to stay in his daughter's life? Surely we couldn't have known if she could have traveled through the stones, and surely he wouldn't have sent me away without her, even if Brianna was on the way. Perhaps something could have been worked out for the four of us to stay together. Perhaps there may have even been more…

I was hit with the crushing realization that if Faith had lived, I never would have left through the stones. I couldn't have. Everything… _everything_ would have been different.

Then, an equally crushing realization dawned on me. Babies died all the time, as did mothers. Faith's birth had been so brutal, perhaps a second one would have killed us both without modern medicine. The physical and emotional strain of the environment I was in surely had a hand in harming my first born, and who was to say it wouldn't have claimed Brianna as well, and perhaps even myself? It was entirely possible that I _needed_ the technology in my own time to carry a child to term, and Jamie knew it.

And he wouldn't have known it if Faith hadn't been lost.

"I…I suppose…" I began, choking back more tears and forcing myself to smile down at her. "I suppose we could say that perhaps Faith left this world so that you could be born, Brianna." I gently bounced my finger so that her little fist bounced with me, and she smiled. "God had a plan for her, for you. She was your guardian angel all along."

_Faith had died so that Brianna may live._

It was something I'd never considered before. Perhaps it was foolish to attribute such a horrible death to a higher purpose, even blasphemous to her memory. But everything else that had happened to me, all of the other seemingly impossible and inexplicable events had led to so many things, Brianna's very existence being one. So perhaps it was true.

"She loved you so much before she even knew you'd exist," I said. "It was all for you, my love."

The door suddenly creaked, and I looked up from her in a panic. Brianna dropped my finger in response to my sudden movement. The magic was lost.

My throat felt like sand. "Frank…" In the dark and with the distance, it was impossible to read him. I couldn't tell how long he'd been standing there, how much he'd heard. "I…how much…"

"It's alright." He put up a hand to stop me. "It's alright."

I didn't say anything as he opened the door further and stepped into the room. Now that he was closer, I could see in the moonlight that he did not look angry. If anything, he looked…sad.

I was waiting for him to say something; I didn't know how to defend what I'd done. I was waiting for him to ask the questions first. He looked at me carefully for a very long time.

"You never told me her name," he said finally. "Or that it was a her at all." I blinked at him wordlessly. "Faith."

It felt like a pinprick to the skull to hear him say it. I was caught off guard at the very least. "I…I didn't think you'd want to know."

"I didn't think you wanted to talk about it."

"I didn't think you wanted me to talk about it." I hadn't meant for it to sound the way it did; I hadn't meant to lace the sentence with as much venom as I had.

"It's…"

"I'm sorry," I said, immediately regretting it.

He waved it off. "It's different…that kind of grief." He stepped a little closer. "I would never have stopped you from grieving a child."

Tears spilled over my cheeks. "You…you couldn't have stopped me either way."

He sighed, frustrated, though I think more with himself than with me. "I know, that isn't what I mean—I…" he ran a hand through his hair. "I meant if you needed to talk about it. You didn't have to carry that alone."

"I didn't." There was no malice in my voice. It was just the truth. "We…carried it together."

He cleared his throat. "I'm…sure you did." He took another step. "And now?"

I swallowed. "I still think about her every day…especially now." I looked down at Brianna. "It's not as if the pain has gone away, I've just…learned to manage it better, I suppose."

"I understand," he said. "I, uh…can't imagine losing Brianna. I'd…I'd fall apart." I looked up at him, and was shocked to see him nearly moved to tears. "I…I can't imagine your pain, Claire." He took yet another step. "I'm sorry for your loss. Truly and deeply."

I blinked back more tears and gave him a pained smile. "Thank you, Frank."

He hesitantly knelt on the floor beside the rocking chair and began stroking Brianna's cheek. He laughed when she grabbed his finger. I laughed too. "She just did that to me."

He was mesmerized. I watched him smiling at her, adoring her. He would be a good father. The best I could have hoped for in this situation.

"She…she won't remember," I said carefully. "And I won't…ever again…"

"It's alright," he said, not taking his eyes off Brianna. "She…she deserves to know there's a little girl in Heaven that looks just like her, watching over her."

I was completely shocked, touched. "Frank…"

"Not now, of course. Not any time soon. It's…too complicated." He finally looked up at me. "Tell her again someday, won't you?"

He was impossible to read, but I nodded anyway. "I will."

He turned his attention back to Brianna. I suppose I shouldn't have been as shocked as I was. No matter how Frank felt about the other man in my life, he was too gentle of a soul to take that anger out on a child. He'd always had a soft spot for children, and perhaps knowledge of my child's death, even one that wasn't his, was sorrowful for him. Especially if she would have been his daughter's sister.

"It's strange to imagine two of them running around," he said, smiling at Brianna. I had the distinct notion that perhaps he thought that if Faith had lived, I would have brought her back with me, back to him. He couldn't know that it wasn't that simple. Perhaps he would have readily accepted _both_ of the little girls with hair that wasn't his. A terribly dark, cynical thought entered my mind that perhaps he only cared about her death because he feels robbed of a second child. I immediately scolded myself for even allowing the thought to enter my mind. _He's trying to help you mourn, you wicked bitch. Don't demonize him because he isn't Jamie_.

"I'm…I'm sorry I can't give you more," he said after another long silence.

"Frank…don't talk like that. It isn't your fault."

He didn't say anything else. I wondered what could be going through his head as he stared at the baby that was not fathered by him, haunted by his own infertility. I could have asked, could have started an open conversation…

But I didn't.

Frank opened his mouth to say something, but suddenly Brianna began to fuss.

"Ah, there it is," I said playfully. "I was wondering when you'd stop being so amiable." I untied the top of my nightgown to nurse her. Frank chuckled. He stood up and went to leave, but something stopped him.

"Thank you."

I looked up from my nursing baby. "For what?"

"For her. Thank you for making me a father."

I didn't know what to say. I simply smiled at him as genuinely as I could muster. He nodded and left to go back to bed.

"He loves you, Brianna," I said. "Your daddy loves you so much already." Even as I said it, my heart felt heavy. She finished feeding and I rose from the chair to fetch a rag to drape over my shoulder to burp her.

"And I love you," I said, bouncing her gently and walking around the room.

After she was burped and rocked to sleep, I put her back in the bassinet, swaddling her as best as I could without waking her again.

"And Faith loves you." I bent over and pressed a kiss into her red hair. "And your _father_ loves you. So much more than you'll ever know." I whispered it so quietly I could hardly hear it myself.

"Goodnight, _mo chridhe_."

_Now that is the last time, Beauchamp._

I walked to the door, taking one last peek at her, only able to see her red hair from where I stood.

_Well…she can't hear me while she sleeps, can she?_

I shut the door behind me, smiling at myself in spite of my guilty conscience.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello AO3! New member here! I'm a ffn.net user of many years, but the Outlander fandom is poppin on AO3 so I wanted to join!
> 
> My first ever Outlander fic! I recently binged the entirety of this series in two weeks during quarantine and obsessed is an understatement. Don't be surprised if you see a few more of these from me, especially since I can't watch the rest of season five until it's all uploaded in about a month, since my Starz free trial was only one week!
> 
> I really loved exploring this relationship between baby Bree and mama Claire, I even enjoyed trying to get Frank and Claire to get along (before everything goes downhill of course). Let me know what you think! Much love, and stay safe out there!


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